Why Can't The Past Just Die?
by PhantomInMyDreams
Summary: Haunted by her Angel's constant appearance in her dreams,Christine returns to the ruined Opera House to bury his corpse with hopes that it will cease the torment his spirit causes her. When she arrives, Christine finds her Angel alive. Updated daily! E-C
1. A Return To Ruins

**Disclaimer: This wonderfulness is not mine to claim. I do own The Phantom of the Opera in my dreams, but in reality I find I have no connection to Gaston Leroux or Andrew Lloyd Webber. So…please enjoy my own version! **

Christine's lithe form hurried up the steps that led towards the ruined Opera House. Gone was the innocent flair that had once resided in her gait. It had been replaced by the burden of a haunted past. Her rosy complexion had paled considerably; dark circles had appeared under her eyes, her mouth seemed to be permanently twisted into a mournful frown.

With a wistful sigh Christine gathered up the folds of her plain black dress and took her first step into the desolate Paris Opera House. She had not returned once since that fateful night nearly two years ago, not until now. By the looks of the place, no one else had either. Her thoughts flew to all the _corps de ballet_ children she had grown with, Meg in particular. A small smile flickered on her lips at the thought of her friend, brightening her pale complexion for a short instant. Meg, her fair headed friend with those innocent blue eyes. Meg had never been one to be bothered by silly things such as worries and problems. How Christine wished she could have seen Meg's sweet face contorted with fear as the chandelier had fallen upon that innocent woman. What evil thoughts continued to consume her since that night!

Christine busied her mind with harmless imaginings while her physical being let the dusty light that streamed through the broken windows of the Opera House envelop her. She wondered where Meg and her mother, Madame Giry had gone. Somewhere magnificent, Christine imagined with a hint of jealousy. Or perhaps they had moved to another Opera house with plenty of other noisy brats to teach the art of dancing to. And what of Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre? What had become of them? The wonderfully naive managers of the Paris Opera House had been ruined by the 'accident'; they had probably scurried back to their junk business, all too willing to forget all about the Phantom and the Opera House. How she wished her soul could have been as easily deterred from thoughts of her Angel of Music. She had prayed daily over the course of two years for his spirit to leave her body yet her soul wouldn't let him go. Night after night he came to her in dreams, haunting her. She had screamed at him in those dreams, clawed at his deformed face, done everything she could possible think of to make him leave her alone. Now, as she stood in front of his ruined domain, her heart softened.

Large honey-hued eyes took in the sight that lay before her. The Grand Entrance had been completely destroyed- the marble had been melted away to reveal concrete foundation, the meticulously carved rail was reduced to ash. Walking slowly up the 'stairs' to room where the productions had taken place Christine pushed away the rubble that filled the doorway. Once she had cleared the way, she gasped, petite hands flying to open lips. Fallen beams, broken glass, fragments of the chandelier, charred remains of once beautiful sculptures, and the skeleton of the grand stage were all that remained of her once treasured Opera House. The newspaper stories had been right about the extent of the damage. By the time the firefighters had gotten there, they had only been able to salvage the dressing rooms and some of the lower levels, made of hard stone instead of wood.

Feeling helpless, Christine collapsed on the dirty floor, tears stinging at her eyes. They trickled down her dirt streaked face, landing with a soft plop onto the floor beside her. Slapping at her tears, Christine angrily stood up. She was determined not to let the destruction deter her from what she had come here to do. Opening her arms, she tilted back her head and began to sing, her heart breaking all over again with every word.

"You were once my one companion. You were all that mattered. You were once a friend and angel then my world was shattered. Wishing you were somehow here again, wishing you were somehow near. Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you'd be here. Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would. Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could. Broken glass and burned velvet, sharp and insolvent, seem for you the wrong companions, you were warm and gentle. Too many years fighting back tears, why can't the past just die? Wishing you were somehow here again, knowing we must say goodbye. Try to forgive, teach me to live, give me the strength to try. No more memories, no more silent tears, no more gazing across the wasted years. Help me say goodbye…help me say goodbye."

A quick movement in the rafters above the charred remains of the Opera House caused ash to fall like damned snow onto the ground below. Startled, Christine glanced up, a flicker of hope shining in her wide eyes. "Angel? Are you there?" the sweet words gushed from her lips, "oh Angel! Please forgive me!" She had worked herself into a fury at the very thought of him still alive. "I can not bear to bury your corpse, even if you did make me promise," she said to the still rafters, twirling the plain gold ring that she wore on her middle finger, just as the Phantom commanded her to.

Dancing around the large pieces of broken chairs and twisted metal that littered the floor Christine ran towards her dressing room hoping that, by some miracle, it had been saved from the fire's hungry flames. She was greeted by a red rose with a black ribbon tied delicately around it in a small bow, lying against her dressing room door. Stooping to pick it up, she was alarmed as the petals crumbled in her palm. She dropped it hastily, calming herself with a hesitant song.

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind."

Her breath came heavily, her small chest heaved as she waited for an answer. Getting none, she continued alone, the voice of her Angel sounding clearly in her head. 'He's there, singing songs in my head.' She thought as her mouth opened to sing.

"Those who have seen your face draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear."

Still no reply. Closing her eyes, she opened the door and stepped into her dressing room. Opening those haunted eyes, she continued her song, lowering herself into the velvet chair that stood before her vanity table.

"Your spirit and my voice in one combined. The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind. He's there, the Phantom of the Opera."

There, at that exact moment, she heard _his _voice, calling to her. "Sing for me!"

Sing she did, she gave her heart and soul to him in that song. Christine made herself his once again.


	2. Music Of The Night

**Author's Note: Please enjoy my story…Honest reviews are greatly appreciated! And I don't really know where Raoul is at this moment…I'm trying to figure that out. I'll do a bit of research of the time period and see if there are any wars he could have becoming missing in action in or something along those lines… **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. –sob- Why must they rub that in? **

Chapter Two

Music of the Night

"Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes the imagination. Silently the senses abandon the defenses…"

Christine's clouded eyes fluttered open as _that_ voice filled her senses. From behind Christine's mirror Erik continued to sing, waking up his angel more with every powerful word.

"Slowly, gently, night unfolds its splendor. Grasp it; sense it, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light – and listen to the music of the night..."

The singing stopped once more as Christine groggily lifted her head. "Angel?" She questioned, her voice soft in the silence. "Angel?" She called out again, sounding very much like a needy child. When she glanced up she saw her Angel before her, standing where her mirror should be. Her world faded to black.

When Christine came too she found she was all alone. Sitting up with a start, she was surprised to find yet another rose lying on the table among the powder brushes and heavy stage makeup. The signature black ribbon was tied securely around the middle, the two loose ends pointing in opposite directions. One pointed towards the open doorway and the promise of freedom, the other towards the mirror and the knowledge that she would be seeing her Angel again.

"This is the point of no return." Her Angel spoke once more. "Make your choice."

With one last fleeting glance towards the light that filtered in through the wide doorway, Christine turned her head full of untamable caramel-hued curls away. She knew what she wanted. She wanted Erik. Memories of the night that Erik had sung Music of the Night to her filled Christine's mind and she let the words travel from her heart to her lips.

"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams. Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar and you'll live as you've never lived before.

"Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly posses you. Open up your mind; let your fantasies unwind in this darkness you know you cannot fight. The darkness of the music of the night.

"Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be. Only then can you belong to me. Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation."

She paused as he appeared before her; although Christine didn't faint she did fall into his arms where Erik held her tightly without question. She allowed herself a closer look at his face. He was wearing his mask but even so, he looked sickly. There was no longer a twinkle in his eye and the side of his profile she was allowed to see had been greatly reduced to skin and bones.

Their voice combined together with seamless ease and Erik's comforting arms calmed Christine's shivers. Her fists beat against his chest as she sang; her racking sobs frequently interpreted the beauty of the song. Erik tolerated the pain that her small fists created as they struck against his malnourished body again and again. It seemed like a small price to pay for what he had gone through without her for two years. He would have tolerated a most painful death if she was by his side.

"Let the dream begin; let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write – the power of the music of the night. You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night."

As their singing slowly tapered to a stop, Christine's tears poured even harder onto Erik's silk vest and white ruffled shirt. Suddenly she began to speak to him.

"What did I do to you?" she whispered, "how could I have left you? Oh Angel. Raoul was fine, I loved him, yet I couldn't stop dreaming of you. Every night I dreamt of you and how I wished for you to leave me, yet I must not have wished hard enough for as soon as my eyes closed you were there, singing songs in my head. I came back to bury your corpse, as you asked, but the whole journey I was praying that you were somehow alive. And you are. I was so afraid that you had left me Erik." Her head rested serenely against his chest, her breath came out in ragged gasps as she fought to regain her composure.

He said nothing in return to her tearful confessions. Every fiber of his being was concentrated on the absorbing even the simple things about Christine – the smell of her hair, the warmth that their bodies created together as they embraced one another, the realization that she had come back to him and that yes, he was very much awake, and most of all, how she still had his ring on her finger.


	3. Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter Three

Till Death Do Us Part

**Authors Note: No! They are not getting married! It's a bit of a long chapter, but I rather fancy it! Please review! **

"Speak to me Erik."

She pulled away from him and Erik felt a deep longing to pull her back into his embrace. His lanky arms hung by his side, useless. All manner of bitter rebuttals to her blabbering stuck in his throat. What would it do to question her motives for returning? She was his again now, arguing would just make it worse. Still, he had to know.

"Christine." Was all poor Erik could manage without choking. That one word, the girl's name, caused a fresh wave of tears to overtake her. Finding his voice, Erik continued. "Why do you return to me, to the ruined Opera House? What became of you and Raoul? Certainly only death could have parted you two lovers."

As he spoke the bitterness had disappeared; all that remained was hopeless desperation and the realization that something terrible must have happened to Raoul for Christine to come back to him, her Angel. "You leave me for two years and now you come back. What were you thinking Christine? If Raoul finds you here it will be the end of me."

"Erik…" She straightened herself up, dusted off her tattered dress and looked him in the eye. "I returned to the demon of my past," in a wide sweeping motion she showed she meant the Opera House, "to do the one thing I dreaded, to bury you. And of Raoul, he is no matter to me now. He is as dead to me as that flower. Please, let us not talk of such unimportant matters. He can be discussed later, I promise." She tilted her head towards the doorway where the crushed petals lay in a heap.

"Did you not think you would find me alive? Well, Christine, I am alive." Erik placed his hand upon his chest. "A heart beats within this corpse. I can only imagine your horrified surprise when you heard my retched voice calling out for you to sing."

"No, Erik. You are not a corpse, nor a monster, nor a ghost. You are a man. A man with a heart and soul and mind and the voice of a god. I returned to fulfill my promise I made to you two years ago. You must remember…" she pleaded.

"I remember." He acknowledged. "I made you swear to come back one night when I was dead. I told you to cross the lake from the Rue-Scribe side and bury me in the greatest secrecy with that gold ring which you were to keep until that moment. You are free to go. I'm not dead."

"I don't want to go. I want to stay with you until I die." Her tears had dried and fierce determination shone through her eyes. She pressed her body against his once more.

Erik, annoyed with how a simple touch from Christine affected him so, turned his head away. "That is not possible."

"Why?" She whined, "If I love you anything is possible."

"No!" His voice grew rough as he broke away from her, his fists clenched with a burst of anger. "You do not love me, Christine. You can not love me for I can not be loved by anyone."

"What horrors do you speak of? You believe you lack the ability to be loved? Erik, these thoughts in your pretty head are not true." Christine moved towards him again just to be blocked by his arms crossed against his gaunt chest.

Had she just called his head pretty? "No one makes me feel the way you do and if I were to get used to you residing with me and then you left, I believe that I would not be able to forgive myself."

"Forgive yourself for what? For allowing yourself to love? One can't live in solitude forever Erik. I need you and I believe you feel the same towards me."

"You have matured over these two years my Christine." He sighed deeply. "I remember when you were like a young child, always needing answers."

Christine smiled sweetly in remembrance and it broke Erik's heart as he looked down upon his own Angel.

"Little Lottie," she whispered solemnly, "thought of everything and nothing. She wheedled her mother, and was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her little red shoes and her fiddle, but most of all loved, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music sing songs in her head. Your Little Lottie has grown Erik and her Angel of Music continues to sing songs in her head."

"In your dreams I will always reside. Now, please, Christine, I can not bear to loose you again."

"You won't!" Christine yelled feverishly. "I'm not leaving you Erik! Not ever again, I couldn't bear to turn my back on you even once more."

"You can not bear to look upon my horrid face!" His fingers found his mask and gently felt the smoothness of the pale porcelain. Grasping the edges of his disguise he tore it off, taking his wig with it. The mask shattered when it hit the floor, sending pieces of snow-white porcelain scattering throughout the dressing room. He waited for Christine's inevitable gasp of horror with tightly shut eyes. When it did not come, he glanced up at her.

His marred skin seemed to have no effect on her. His face, with his one droopy eyelid and rough folds of red skin hanging from his cheek ceased to repulse her. She had grown past the point where appearances mattered.

"It 'tis but a face." She said sensibly, stepping forward to grasp his hand. Holding it gently in hers, she brought it to his face, running his own fingers over the deformity. "Trust me." Dropping his hand, she lifted her fingers to his distorted face. Gently, oh so gently, she explored each crevice, every single centimeter of his beautiful face.

Exploding under her fingertips, Erik closed his eyes in ecstasy and savored the sensation of her light touch. Never before had a woman willingly touched him, and certainly never as Christine did so.

"Erik." She whispered. "Let me stay with you."

Breathless, all he could do was nod. Eyes still shut he moved his head towards her shoulder and rested it upon her still frame.

Moving her hand to his crown she stroked the clumps of greasy raven-hued locks that hung from his skull. With ease her fingers untangled the knots that had plagued his hair for years and massaged his throbbing head.

"Come." Erik stood upright; the ghost of Christine's touch quickened his breath as he offered his hand.

Taking his palm in hers she fell into step behind Erik. Her heart refused to still as he led her forward even though she knew exactly where the dark passageway hidden behind her mirror was going to lead them.


	4. Descent to Erik's Lair

**Disclaimer: I don't own these magnificent characters…or the rights to any of the ideas on this page except for my own. **

**Author's Note: ****Alicia Corbinwood****Mini Nicka****letthedreamdescend****Countess Alana****Forever in a bottle****, Star Sheep, and LittleLottie1991 thank you all so much for your reviews! I really do appreciate hearing positive feedback. –Hands you all Erik plushies- **

**Alicia Corbinwood: I'm glad you like the way I mixed the two, there just isn't enough information in the movie for me to write about! And about the fop, I'm assuming you mean Raoul…**

Letthedreamdescend: I'm going to be updating almost every day- I hope! So please check back soon!

**Mini Nicka: No, this is not a one-shot deal; I'm going to be adding chapters often.**

Countess Alana: Hopefully you won't have to wait long, I'm glad you like the beginning.

**Forever In A Bottle: Yes, I do plan to continue. I'm very glad you like it; I am worried that people aren't going to…Anyway, back to the story.**

Star Sheep: Yey! Someone loves my story! Yes! –Hands you another Erik plushie-

**LittleLottie1991: I like chapter three too. I'll work on making them longer, thanks for the feedback! **

**Chapter Four**

**The Magic Journey**

Erik glanced back often, his forehead etched with worry as the duo descended the mossy stone steps that led to the lair's murky lake. 'She's going to be there every time.' He reasoned in an attempt to stop himself from checking on her. It was impossible; he couldn't bear to keep his eyes off of her, not even for a brief second.

Catching onto what was troubling him so; she smiled sweetly each time he turned around. "I'm not leaving you." Christine said finally after it had gotten to be too much. "I'm here behind you and I'll be here when we reach the lake. Stop turning around, I'm afraid you'll fall." She gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

Certain that she spoke the truth, Erik forced himself to relax. His grip on her hand loosened ever so slightly as he led her through the dark and musty catacombs hidden beneath the Opera House.

"We are here." Erik's voice broke the silence that had formed between them. In one fluid motion Christine was transferred from the dock to the small gondola that bobbed gently in the water. "There you are." He nodded, pleased with how smoothly he had lifted her up. Picking up an intricately carved oar, decorated with angels, music notes, and an assortment of other unique designs, he began to maneuver the gondola with graceful strokes through the narrow passageways that created the entrance to his lair.

Christine, not as captivated with Erik as was the case the first time she had been taken to his lair, allowed herself to fully take in her surroundings. Her mouth opened in awe as she noted the rotting Opera posters, menacing gargoyles, their jowls open in a silent roar; and golden angels that called the rough stone walls home.

Mist swirled over the lake, creating a dream-like scene as they drifted towards Erik's lair. "Oh!" Christine breathed as a mother swan glided beside the gondola, trailing behind her – four fluffy baby swans. The swan tilted its graceful head towards Christine, inviting her to touch it. Reaching out tentatively, Christine stroked the white downy feathers, a smile playing across her full lips. "Thank you." She mouthed to the bird which with a fluff of her wings, slowly swam away from the gondola. Erik looked down upon his angel, making friends with the creatures of his lake and was forced to smile. Christine had been transformed in the few hours she had spent with her Angel. Gone was the sullen pout. Her eyes now held the sparkle of life that only Erik could restore within her.

With each new room Erik rowed through Christine discovered new wonders. Hundreds of flickering candles illuminated the watery passageways; red velvet curtains partially covered ancient paintings; Water dripped from the ceiling, making eerie notes as it fell into the lake. All too quickly the magical journey was over and a large gate lifted to allow for the gondola to enter Erik's hidden home.

Jumping out into the water, Erik dragged the gondola to rest on the rocky shore of his lair. His pants, from his knees to his ankles, were soaking wet as he lifted Christine with ease onto dry land. "Welcome to my home." Erik lowered his torso into a sweeping bow. As he straightened he realized that Christine was no longer standing in front of him; she had traveled up the small bank and was sitting at his organ, her fingers brushing lightly over the keys. As he stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, she began to sing.

"I remember there was mist... swirling mist upon a vast glassy lake. There were candles all around, and on the lake there was a boat. And in the boat there was a man." Tilting her head back, she leaned against his stomach.

His fingers found her hair and grew tangled in the mass of curls. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that's all I ask of you."

"Anywhere I go, I want you to go too." She replied in spoken words. "I am staying here yet I have no garments, save for this, that I can wear. I brought money; may I take a trip into town tomorrow Erik?"

"Of course you may. No, don't use your money, I'll provide you with whatever you might need." Erik detached himself from her and walked towards a large wooden desk centered in the middle of a candle-lit room.

Feeling empty, Christine impatiently waited for Erik to return. When he did he had a stack of paper money clutched in his hands. "I want you to purchase everything that your heart desires." It was a soft order yet an order all the same.

She reluctantly took the money, but not before reaching into her shoe and taking out her own savings. "Then have this, please, take it. Use it for my provisions." He pocketed the money with a curt nod. "Thank you Erik." She was genuinely grateful for his generosity and as she rose from the bench she kissed his forehead, her lips resting on the smooth skin before she reluctantly broke the contact.

With wide open eyes, Erik felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest. She had willingly kissed him and yet she still breathed. She had not died after touching his cursed skin!

"You look like you've just seen a ghost." Christine commented as she gazed upon his pale face.

"No, I've just been kissed by an Angel."

"Your Angel wishes to know where she will sleep." With a yawn, Christine stretched her arms towards the damp ceiling. "She is very tired."

Erik snapped out of his trance, although he was still amazed at how easily she had kissed him and how nonchalant she was acting afterwards. "I've forgotten my manners, forgive me." He said apologetically, swooping her up into his arms and walking towards the iron swan bed. "This is where you will reside."

She was asleep before her head touched the pillow. "Goodnight my Angel." With one last glance towards his sleeping beauty he lowered the black lace curtain that hid her from his view.


	5. Apparent Changes

**Disclaimer: Idonotownthis.**

**Author's Note: Sorry, I'm trying to make that awful fact last for the least amount of time possible. I love fluff! Fluff is good…is it not? **

**Tracy137: Wow! Amazing review…thank you so very much for liking my little story! Yes, I will be continuing. Please continue to read! –Hands you a tub of popcorn and an Erik plushie- **

**Chapter Five**

**Apparent Changes **

Christine's night was free of the dark dreams that had haunted her for so long.

Erik's night on the other hand was plagued by the images of Christine and that damnable Raoul together as they ran through his mind, refusing to leave him be. He tossed and turned in his confined space; sweat gathered on his upper lip as he fought to the anger that burst forth at the very thought of _his _Christine in the arms of another. He willed his body to surrender to sweet slumber. He finally succeeded, only to be tortured further in his sleep.

Morning came too quickly for Christine. When her eyes opened she found herself in a strange bed. Confused, she called out for the only one she knew. "Raoul!" As Erik ran into her room, all memories of last night flooded back to her. She cringed as she realized what she had done. "Erik!" she said to his disheveled form, "I didn't mean to call for him…I didn't know where I was, I was frightened."

Inhaling deeply, Erik simply shook his head. "No, it's fine. I thought he had come to take you away," he glanced down at his clothing and smiled timidly. He was dressed in only his robe, fashioned from black silk. "Forgive me for not knocking before I entered," He said and slowly backed out of the room, closing the door as he left.

Christine sighed with relief. She had expected him to be furious. His response had not been typical of the Erik she knew. The Erik she had come to resent for his violent tendencies. Stepping out of the bed, she placed her bare feet on the cold stone floor. With a shiver she ran towards her shoes that lay next to the door. Slipping them onto her feet she smiled once more as she realized he was changing. And all for her!

Letting herself out of the room, she wandered around his expansive home until she found him, cooking breakfast, singing to himself as he stirred the eggs. "You didn't have to cook for me." She kissed his cheek in thanks.

"If it means you that will kiss me then I am all too willing to cook for you."

"Why thank you." She said, kissing his textured cheek once more.

"You must eat a good breakfast if you are to venture out into town today. I do not want you famished while you shop."

"You spoil me Erik."

"It's my pleasure to do so. Now go sit and I will serve you."

She obeyed, sitting in a small push chair that sat in front of a wooden table that was richly decorated with candles and intricately woven place mats. A steaming hot plate full of eggs, seasoned potatoes, and a small sugary pastry was placed in front of her. "This looks delicious," she said with wide eyes. She had not seen such a plentitude of food in quite a while. Picking up her fork she daintily began to eat.

Watching her with a humored expression playing on his face, Erik's eyebrows knitted together as he noticed how elegantly she was eating. "Are you not hungry Christine?" he asked, the concern evident on his face.

"I am," she responded simply.

"Well then, why don't you eat faster?"

"In your presence?" she scoffed. She had never heard of such a thing as eating feverishly in front of a man. During the first year of her marriage to Raoul she had attended many formal dinner parties and with those parties came the knowledge of how to eat properly in another's company.

"Yes. I do not care how you eat. You must be starved for you had no dinner last night. Please, do me a favor and eat as if I were not here."

She nodded and hesitantly began to eat faster. Her fork carried more food to her lips with one movement than ever before. Yet she still managed to be feminine and polite, Erik mused. Lowering his gaze from her he focused on the large novel he was in the process of reading.


	6. Raoul!

**Disclaimer: Idon'townthismagnificence**

**A/N: Oh, if you want to actually see the dress: http: I don't know if they actually had mannequins back then but for my purposes they are going to! More fluff for the first half, but who doesn't love fluff? Also, it's a tad bit long…**

**Star Sheep-hands over yet another Erik plushie- I'm only giving you so many because of your lovely reviews…and because I have the real Erik handcuffed to my wrist. -Evil grin- Watch your blood pressure….-hint- Don't worry, I'm E/C through and through!**

**Chapter Six**

**Raoul!**

"Goodbye Christine, be safe my Angel."

With a curtsey Christine left Erik alone once more.

The bright sunlight overwhelmed her senses as she pushed open the heavy wooden door that led to the outside world. Blinking wildly she shielded her sensitive coffee-hued eyes against the warm light which seemed to pierce through her skull. Christine checked that the bundle of francs Erik had given her still remained in her pocket and navigated herself through the small alleyways that led to the very center of the town.

Almost immediately after she had joined the small crowd that wandered the cobblestone streets of Paris, Christine felt insignificant in her faded black dress. Compared with the brilliant purples, golds, and silvers of the other women's dresses Christine looked like a simple peasant.

Using her arms to cover as much of herself as possible she hurried through the streets, dodging speeding carriages and women's stares. Dirty men whistled at her as she passed, empty bottles of liquor rolling at their feet, crude words flowing off their tongues. As she escaped into a charming boutique, Christine nearly ran into a mannequin. The doll was clothed in one of the most elegant day dress that Christine had ever seen.

The majority of the dress was fashioned from a soft and flowing angelic white fabric with black silk for the two thin straps which crossed between the bust to finally create a tight bow around the small waist. It was a floor length dress; the chiffon fabric flowed gracefully about the ankles.

There was a light tap on her shoulder. Christine jumped, startled by the sudden touch. A round saleswoman faced her. "Would you like to purchase this madam?"

"Mademoiselle," Christine corrected kindly, "my husband left for the war a year ago. I have not heard from him since then. He's presumed dead."

The woman frowned, her lips curling into a most unattractive pout. "I'm sorry."

"No, it 'tis fine. It happens all the time. Now, about the dress. How much is it?" She rubbed the material between her fingers longingly. Already she was imaging the look of pleasure that would cross Erik's face when he saw her in it, the fabric silently dancing about her feet. She simply could not live without the dress.

The smile reappeared upon the woman's pudgy face. Her matte brown eyes sparkled. "This is our special dress, imported from far away lands. She's one thousand francs."

Christine's face fell immediately. "One thousand francs?" Slowly she took out the bundle of francs that Erik had given to her, counting out each individual bill. In her hand she held three thousand francs. Erik had given her three thousand francs! Blinking back the tears of gratitude that threatened to spill onto her cheeks, Christine nodded. "I'll take her."

"We shall fit her for you and make minor adjustments. The dress will be ready tomorrow."

"Isn't there anyway I could take her now?"

"Not unless you fancy a dress that doesn't fit properly." The woman raised her groomed eyebrows at that ridiculous thought. No woman wanted a dress that didn't fit properly!

"May I try it on?" Christine asked, knowing in her heart that the dress was made for her and that it would most certainly fit without needing adjustments.

"Of course! The dress belongs to you now. You are free to do as you wish with it." The woman unfastened the dress from the doll and handed it reluctantly to Christine, wondering how such a poorly dressed woman came to own three thousand francs to her name. "One thousand francs."

Christine handed the money over and nearly ripped the dress in her haste to hold the beautiful creation in her hands.

"The fitting room is over there." She pointed towards the back of the tiny store.

Christine nearly floated towards the room. When she gently pulled the dress over her head it fit perfectly. The fabric hugged her petite curves and accentuated her long legs. Discarding the black dress on a wooden chair, Christine walked out of the room, her spirits flying. Respectable men turned to stare and women exchanged whispers laced with jealousy.

"They are back!" The excited scream came from behind her. Christine whirled around to see a mob of people clapping and screaming. "They're back!" The scream came again, this time followed by many other voices, cheering. The carriages in the streets paused to witness the strange and exciting event.

"Who is back?" Christine wandered aloud as she was jarred by people pushing past her in their haste to join the growing crowd.

"The soldiers of course! They are back! They are back! Spread the word! Everyone must know our soldiers have returned to us!" The man that had graciously answered her sprinted off, leaving Christine's heart pounding with fear. What soldiers?

No…no! It couldn't be. Raoul was dead, had been for a year. She was frozen to the spot, her feet refused to move. It wasn't until she heard her own name spoken in a frantic yelp that she turned to flee.

"Christine?" It was Raoul, except it wasn't her Raoul. The man she had fallen in love with as a young woman had changed. Christine could see that in the few seconds she had allowed herself to look at him. His hair was terribly matted, he had grown a beard and his face was scarred. His body was under nourished, his clothes torn and dirty. It was still Raoul though, her husband that was supposed to be dead. "Christine?"

The roar of the many voices dulled to whispers as Christine's mind reeled. Time stood still as she turned from her husband.

"Christine?"

With that she ran as fast as her body would carry her. She could hear his footsteps behind her, his voice pleading with her. "Please, Christine!"

It broke her heart to run from him yet she knew she must. It had been a long year, during which she had matured greatly. The title of Vicomtess de Chagany no longer excited her, nor did it belong to her.

After a few twisting alleys distanced the two ex-lovers, Christine allowed herself to slow her pace, her chest heaving with labored breath. Christine felt helpless. Had she done the right thing by running from her husband? YES! Her heart screamed at her yes, yes, yes! She belonged with Erik. Still, Raoul's pleading eyes were in her head.

Her dress had been nearly ruined in the process of running from her past. The dirt from the alleys clung to the bottom, tuning the delicate fabric a foul gray colour. The dress had various rips up to the thigh, it was simply destroyed.

Emerging from yet another nameless alley, Christine was relieved to find that she was back where she started. The mob had disappeared; the soldiers were no doubt sharing beds with the women of their choice. She was alone in the cobblestone streets and the sun was just beginning to set. Pastel pink and red orange hues colored the sky. She had been away from Erik for hours!

With a deep shuddering sigh Christine walked into the nearest seamstress's shop and gazed at the many different bolts of richly colored fabrics. Paper patterns were scattered throughout the small store. Delicately Christine stepped over each one and made her way towards the back of the shop where the seamstress was no doubt working on her latest piece.

"Hello?" She called out.

"Oh hello dear, I'm in the back." An old woman's voice answered her. "Just come on in."

Christine did as she was told and found a squinting old lady hunched over a large piece of silken fabric. The woman looked up as Christine entered.

"How may I assist you mademoiselle?"

"I need five day dresses, made as simply as possible please."

"Ah, that sounds lovely. What fabric and style do you prefer?"

"Two red silk dresses, cut like the one I'm wearing now, one white chiffon dress, and two loose cotton work dresses. That will be it for now."

"Let me take your measurements."

When all arrangements had been made and Christine had paid her two thousand francs, she hurriedly made her way home.

When she stepped out of the shop it was completely black out, not even a sliver of the moon showed through the dense clouds that covered the sky. Staying within the dim light of the street lamps, Christine made it safely to the Rue Scribe.

As she pushed open the wooden door again, she found it opened easily, something that it had not done before. Tilting her head, she looked at it with a strange expression written on her delicate features. She had closed it properly, hadn't she? With a shrug she followed the narrow stone path beside the slow moving lake that led to Erik's lair. She arrived at his hidden home within minutes, her arms and pockets empty.

"Erik?"

Deafening silence greeted her.


	7. Punjab Lasso

**Disclaimer: Thesecharactersarenotmine**

**Author's note: Yey! Another review. This chapter is rated PG-13 for violence. The next chapter will be rated /maybe/ a high PG-13 for romance. This is a very short chapter, meant to be happening while Christine is making arrangements for her five day dresses. **

**Pinkichigomewmew: I'm glad you like it-Hands you an Erik plushie- I love long time readers! They make me very happy. **

**Chapter Seven **

**Punjab Lasso **

**Meanwhile:**

The swelling notes of the organ filled the lonely retreat and Erik's empty heart. His eyes were closed as he played the music from The Point Of No Return. His slender fingers pounded the keys, eliminating the possibility of him hearing anyone enter.

_You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent, silent._

_I have brought you, that our passions my fuse and merge. In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses…_

The blow came from behind, nearly knocking Erik unconscious. His head hit the organ so hard that the keys screamed in protest. The ugly sound screeched through the room, startling Erik's attacker.

Enraged and very much in pain, Erik whirled blindly around on the bench and faced a scraggly Raoul.

Raoul's eyes were wild and bloodshot. In his hand he held a short metal rod, raised to strike again. He was muttering incoherent nothings to himself as he eyed Erik menacingly.

With hislightning fast reflexes slowed by the throbbing in his head, Erik was on his feet in an amazing amount of time. His hands shot inside the black cloak that he always wore, gasping the Punjab lasso, he readied it with one swift motion.

Advancing towards the drunken Raoul proved to be difficult as the drunk kept swinging the heavy rod violently. Raoul managed to strike Erik twice more, once in the stomach and once in the rib. As Erik's rib cracked and broke, so did his patience.

Ignoring the blows that battered his torso, Erik wrapped the rope around Raoul's neck and pulled, the sudden pressure snapped his neck instantly. He crumpled to the floor, the rod rolled harmlessly down to the edge of the water.

With the blood from his head wound running down into his eyes, Erik stumbled to pick up Raoul's limp body. With staggering steps he carried the dead man. Erik made it as far as his study before he dropped Raoul and collapsed in a pool of his own blood.


	8. First Steps and Last Goodbyes

**Disclaimer: Idon'townanythingonthispagebutmyownideas-so basically almost everything but the characters. **

**A/N: PG-13 for some partial blood. This is back to when Christine enters the 'abandoned lair'. Another thing, because it was a head wound Erik is bleeding profusely but he isn't hurt that badly. It's his rib that needs the most attention. And I _do _understand that Christine may be a little out of character for this chapter…sorry! And sorry I couldn't post this sooner, I was grounded from the computer. **

A.K. Anonymous: Yes, I guess Raoul is mean. I think he's more of the extremely jealous type and besides…he was a tad bit tipsy. I'm glad you like it! Yey! A gold star. –Pins it on my shirt-

Phantom of the Past: Hmm, I think I named the story this because of the song Christine sang in the first chapter…I might have to change the title, but thanks! I didn't know this was a **brilliant** attempt… Yes, I shall try to make that more apparent in the next chapters.

Alexa-Raoul- Yes, it does sound quite disgusting coming from one's mouth. All I can is that the fop got what he deserved. Poor Erik! I'm glad you like it. –Squeals-

Angel-of-Music1331: It's amazing! Wheee! I will try to keep myself ungrounded so I can update often. Please keep reading!

**Chapter Eight**

**First Steps and Last Goodbyes **

Christine nearly tripped over a metal rod as she walked to the water's edge to see if Erik's boat was still docked. It was. Picking up the metal, Christine held it lightly in her hands. A closer examination revealed that there were smears of blood near the top. Christine hastily dropped the rod, becoming more and more frantic as she walked towards the silent organ. There was blood on the once pristine white keys. Breathing deeply to keep herself from fainting, she followed the trail of glossy crimson liquid until she reached Erik's study; her heart nearly beat out of her chest as she slowly opened the creaking door.

Christine screamed as the Erik's bloodied body greeted her. Erik's chest rose with the rhythm of his faint breath. Her eyes traveled to yet another form hidden in the shadows. It was Raoul, his neck bent in a grotesque position, Erik's signature rope still cutting into his discolored neck. Another scream left her trembling lips as she turned away, unable to look any longer.

Erik stirred, his eyes fluttered open. "Christine…" He moaned. His head lolled to the side as he spoke, his eyes were wide and afraid.

Christine bent down to her Angel, her hands and white dress were quickly tinted red. "I'm here," she crooned, "what happened?"

Erik opened his mouth; blood trickled from the corner of his lips. "He attacked me." He said faintly.

Christine tore the bottom of her dress free and pressed it against Erik's head, the blood quickly soaking the scrap of fabric.

The tears flowed freely from her wide eyes as she gently removed Erik's bloodied cloak and shirt. As she stared at his bare torso, her fingers danced over the mottled bruises that were forming on his chest. "I shouldn't have left you to go out today."

"It's not your fault." Erik countered. He was completely conscious now yet his eyes remained glassy and unfocused. His stomach trembled under her whisper light touch.

"Can you walk?"

"I think so." Erik hated this, being so weak in Christine's presence. It was supposed to be the other way around.

Christine helped support Erik as he stood and began the slow and painful walk towards his bathroom.

-

"I will not allow you to sleep in that coffin," she shuddered at the thought of her Angel in a coffin. "No man should. You shall sleep on the left side and I on the right."

There was nothing for Erik to do but cooperate. As they lay in bed together Christine leaned up on her elbows and glanced at Erik. His eyes were closed. "What are we going to do about Raoul?" She questioned, her voice low, as if her dead husband lying in Erik's study might overhear her.

Erik groaned and opened his emerald green eyes. "Christine, I had no choice but to kill him, he was going to kill me and I couldn't let that happen. I need to stay alive for you." His voice wavered as tears rolled onto Christine's hair.

"Oh Erik, look what he did to you, that's all I care about – you. Raoul, he is a part of my past. I just don't want him," she too choked up, "in your study. Nor do I want anyone finding out about the black deed that had to be done." She gave an involuntary shiver as her mind flashed back to him dead on Erik's floor. She didn't dare tell him how she had run so feverishly away from Raoul just hours before, or how she had an intense longing to run into the blood stained study and embrace Raoul's cold body and weep 'till there were no more tears left to cry.

"It will be taken care of before you wake tomorrow morn'." Erik promised fiercely.

As Christine laid her head on the soft pillow Erik began to sing.

"In your arms I still feel the way you want me when you hold me. I can still hear the words you whispered when you told me: I can stay right here forever in your arms…"

Before he had uttered another word Christine had fallen asleep; a gentle smile graced her full lips.

-

Sometime during the night as Christine was peacefully sleeping, Erik slipped silently from _their _bed and with lead steps walked to his study. The room stunk of death – a metallic copper smell contaminated the entire room. Erik bent over Raoul's stiff body and, ignoring the sharp flame of pain that shot up his side, picked the man up.

Raoul. Just his name was enough to send Erik spiraling out of control. He hated _Raoul_ with such an intense passion it was nearly unbearable. Holding his body in his arms brought back memories of so very long ago, memories that had plagued his dreams for years…

"_Let me be your shelter. Let me be your light. You're safe, no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you…" _Raoul, that arrogant bastard, had dared to kiss Christine as if she had belonged to him, had dared to sway her from her Angel with silly words of love. And it had worked, which had infuriated Erik even more.

"_Say you love him and my life is over." _Even in the face of death Raoul was impossibility charming. As the lasso had cut into his pretty neck he had begged with Christine to let him die, as if life without her would hardly be life at all. Erik still wished he had seen the look on Raoul's flawless face as Christine had kissed _him _with such fiery passion, more than she had undoubtedly had ever kissed Raoul with.

_"Say the word and I will follow you." _Christine had never looked back once as Raoul rowed her away from Erik, he could still hear the shaky beginnings of her song, could still feel the ring she had given back to him cut into his palm as Erik made fists so tight that his knuckles turned the color of the moon…

With a small shake of his head, Erik deposited Raoul's body in the gondola, took up the row, and began to move silently through the dark watery tunnels.

The flames quickly enveloped Raoul's body, emitting the putrid stench of burning flesh as they licked higher and higher. As they finally died down, Erik smothered the golden embers with a tattered blanket. With one last look, Erik disappeared through the mirror and into the dark shadows that danced on the walls of his hidden hallways.


	9. Passionate Memories

**Disclaimer: I don't own this SPLENDERIFICNESS! **

**A/N: This chapter, because I feel like it, is going to be in present tense…don't ask! I don't know why, I'm sorry if it makes some of you angry, since the rest of the story will continue to be in past tense. High PG-13 for romance. Reviewers: I LOVE ALL OF YOU! Oh, and about the romance, please tell me if I didn't write it properly, I tried my best! **

**Pinkichigomewmew**: I rather like the fact that Raoul is dead too, it leaves so many more options left for me to work with. I am back for as long as I can be!

**A.K**: Hehe, it's ok. O.o I'm always insane! A little insanity is fun every now and then.

**LittleLottie1991**: I try!

**Chapter Nine**

**Passionate Memories**

A month has passed since Christine spent her first night in Erik's sanctuary. Outside, leaves the colour of spun gold fall from trees, decorating the ground with their worthless brilliance. The branches, once thick with green leaves, now succumb to the cold, their thin limbs shaking violently in the breeze.

Inside Erik's home suppressed passion thickens the air. Christine can sense it disguising itself as the shiver that runs down her spine each time she gazes upon the man she has come to _love. _Love. That man, with his impossibly powerful aurora, her Angel.

Erik has grown distant in his attempt to control himself around Christine. Just the sight of her hair flowing across her back makes him wild, and so he goes about his days, staying as far away from her as he can. At odd times she will stare at him with her cool brown eyes, as if challenging him to a duel he would most definitely loose.

As summer's last warm rays disappear, so does Christine's patience for Erik's behavior. A whole month has gone by, thirty moons, thirty suns and still all she has to dream about are the events which have not conspired yet and the few shared kisses, and of course, memories of that night not so long ago…

"_No Christine. I...I will not allow myself to hurt you..." He trailed off, not able to continue. His eyes were an open window to his tortured soul. He had waited **years **for this moment, had fantasized about it nearly every night, and now, as Christine lay before him, he was denying both of them. _

"_I'm not a virgin Erik." She gazed levelly at him as her mind began to secretly berate her for reminding him of Raoul. _

_He cringed, "I'm not afraid of that." _

"_Then what are you afraid of?" _

"_Let's not argue. You will understand in time."_

_As those words left his parted lips, Christine let out a sharp cry filled with unmasked horror. "You listened?" Her longing melted away to coldness. _

"_Yes." He admitted with downcast eyes. "I was foolish enough to believe that you were mine with the entirety of your heart and soul. When I heard you with Raoul I knew it wasn't true…and as furious as I was, it intrigued me, how a woman could feel for two men so differently. I tried many a time to turn away, to flee back into the solitude of my music, yet I couldn't." He glanced up at her, ashamed of the tears shining in his emerald eyes. _

_Christine wasn't crying nor was she fuming. With delicate steps she advanced towards him, never taking her eyes off of him. Closer, closer she came until her lips claimed his._

_Erik reacted immediately, he could feel the burning sensation course through his entire being as she kissed him as she had not done for two years. He didn't close his eyes; instead he watched Christine respond as he deepened the kiss and pulled her forcefully against him as tightly as their bodies would allow. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest as his fingers found the lacings of her corset, hidden beneath the soft silk dress she wore and lazily began to untie them, one by one until it fell from her body. He could hear her sharp intake of breath as his hands spread across her back, and finally, he could smell the faint scent of jasmine that lingered upon her skin from her bath the night before. _

"_Erik." His name was spoken shakily as Christine pressed her hips into his. He groaned into her neck as two very different reactions ran through his mind. _

_No! You can't do this, not yet! _

_The other, which he feared more than the first, overpowered him for the time being. With a low moan, he picked her up, never separating their screaming bodies, and led her to the bed. _

_In a quick motion she was lying under him, her legs spread slightly, her back arched to bring her closer to him._

_It was then when he gained control, his mind had won. The one moment Erik had been dreaming about and waiting for was playing out right in front of him, yet something was wrong…He lifted himself off of her. Christine raised up on her elbows, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. "Erik?" _

_"Not like this." He said, "Please understand. I can't do it right now, just not like this." And she did understand. _

_"Whenever you're ready Erik, just say the word." As she left the room, she steadied his doubt with a shy smile._

"Christine?" Erik was behind her as she turns around, shaking her head of the passionate memory.

"Yes?" Her hands fly to her flushed cheeks.

If Erik noticed he doesn't let on. "I just came to tell you that I wish for you to begin singing once more."

A smile lights up her face immediately. "Really? Erik, you'll teach me again?" Familiar feelings bubble up inside of her and lighten her mood from the inside out.

"You need to continue your tutoring." He says sensibly. "We will continue first thing tomorrow morning with music from Don Juan Triumphant."

"Don Juan? Why?"

"It is the music you are most familiar with. Once you master it we shall move onto other works." He reasons, stony faced as if the painful memories from that night no longer affect him.

She simply nods and watches him as he leaves her.

Christine hurries to the kitchen, a light skip apparent in her step, humming the tune from Past the Point of No Return as she cuts the vegetables.

In a few precious hours she will be at the mercy of Erik's patience, a thought that excites her more than it scares her. As it is of no consequence, she begins to sing as she attends to the steaming rice.

"You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence . . ." Her voice falters at first, her vocal chords not quite strong enough after all this time to handle such strain. She stops promptly, embarrassed at how her voice has weakened. Shaking her head at her own failure, she continues on with silence, counting down the seconds until her Angel will become her tutor once more.


	10. Don Juan Disaster

**A/N: I'm back into my past tense mood…**

**A.K. Anonymous:**_ You could say that they are in love, but it's not back to what it was before Christine left Erik. Thanks! I hoped I had done that part right. _

**Sbkar: **_She trusts that Erik took care of Raoul as he had promised, so I don't think she's going to question him about it. And for the wedding, I don't know if a marriage is in the immediate future. Ah, and Erik isn't all to strong yet, it's just the way he holds himself and the way he talks that makes him seem so powerful. I'll make that more apparent in this chapter. Thanks for point that out! _

**Clever Lass**_Yey! Constructive criticism. I LOVE YOU! I know Christine may be out of character…sorry, but I don't like her without some sort of spine, it makes the story way to repetitive when she's constantly crying. I'll try to make the plot more complicated, (not to make excuses) but this story is my first and I'm trying to learn as I go along._

**Alexa: **_-Dances- I love that people like this story! And yes, I agree with you, his hair was simply awful in the movie. –Gag-_

**Mademoiselle P: **_Go E/C phanfictions! Ohh no…it's not going to be in the least bit romantic. I'm warning you now; Erik kinda gets a /little/ volatile because Christine tries to calm him down from his crying fest but instead she makes him very angry. O.o __It's my perverse sense of humor you can blame. _

_CALLING ALL REVIEWERS: I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR IDEAS FOR WHAT I COULD ADD TO THE PLOT!_

**Chapter Ten**

**Don Juan Disaster**

"Bring your voice from your diaphragm, not your stomach. Your voice will be more powerful. No slouching, stand straight like this." Erik was on the verge of exasperation. As he pulled himself up on the bench, Christine followed his lead. "Now, start over again." His stern eye stopped her from complaining. They had been singing the same line for an hour now, or so it seemed to Christine, who unfortunately had not able to concentrate since the first half hour. His gloved fingers flew over the stained ivory keys, filling the room with dramatic music.

_"Past the point of no return. The final threshold. What warm unspoken secrets will we learn beyond the point of no return?" _

Erik's intoxicating voice muddled her senses, making it even more difficult for her to concentrate. As the last thick note echoed in the room Christine began to sing, her eyes closed, her hands rested on her butterfly infested stomach.

"_You have brought me to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence, silence… I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why…"_

"Stop!" Erik commanded, "Your voice isn't reaching its potential on 'why', it needs to be stronger. Lift your chin and try it again, starting from 'I have come here.'"

She glared at the back of his head, the raven-hued strands slicked back gracefully against his skull. Trailing her eyes unabashedly down his frame, she realized he was still gaunt, his shoulder blades were painfully apparent under the thin white shirt he wore, though his waist had thickened, thanks to all the meals Christine insisted he eat.

"Christine?" When Erik was dealing with music he was almost too businesslike. Unlike with other aspects of his life; when it came to music, he demanded nothing short of perfection.

He smiled as he bent towards the organ, his eyes closed against the sweetness of her voice. It was nearly perfect. All of his work had not been for nothing, his angel had returned to him, and now she stood behind him, singing only for him.

"_I have come here hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent. Now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided, decided. Past the point of no return, no going back now, our passion play has now at last begun. Past all thought of right or wrong. One final question: how long should we two wait before we're…?" _

She was cut off once more as Erik stood, his eyes burning. "One." He said softly. Pulling Christine's head to his chest he wrapped his arms around her waist, reveling in her beauty.

She didn't protest; just let her soft skin melt against his sharp angles. His head rested on her shoulder, his face became lost in her hair. She gasped as she felt his lips move against her neck. Familiar words reached her ear and she stiffened against him until he had sung the last word, it was only then that she allowed herself to relax.

"_Say you'll want me  
with you here  
beside you.  
Anywhere you go  
let me go too.  
Christine that's all I ask of you."_

_You. _The small word hung in the air around their heads, floated down slowly like snowflakes until it covered Christine in an unnerving darkness. That small word, or lack of, had ruined three lives; one indefinitely, the other two for a horribly long time. The wounds caused by_ Don Juan Triumphant_ would never truly heal, Christine knew this all to well. Erik's unwillingness to forget and her desperate need to do exactly that would never lighten. Of course, with time, the memories would grow steadily dimmer, like a dying star as it fought its own secret battle in the night sky, but they would never fade completely.

She let Erik cling to her; the torment hidden within his soul broke through his masculine façade with shattering lucidity. His slender hands raked up and down her back roughly, the racking sobs that plagued his body shook hers as well and still she held on, calming him with sweet words.

"Since the moment I first heard you sing I have needed you with me." She prompted as she rubbed his back softly in slow circles.

The sobs stopped as suddenly as they had started. Erik drew away from Christine, staring at her with red-rimmed eyes. Something surfaced from the depths of his soul, something Christine recognized immediately as jealousy and anger. She had seen it control him before. Before she could react, he was repeating all the horrendous quotes that Christine, once in her lifetime, had said to Raoul.

"Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face." He spat back at her. His face that was hardly a face at all contorted with resentment. "The Phantom of the Opera will kill and kill again! I can't escape from him, I never will!" His voice was hoarse with anger as he continued to back away from her, repeating the very words that had flown so easily from her lips years before. "He'll take me; I know we'll be parted forever... He won't let me go. What I once used to dream, I now dread. If he finds me, it won't ever end." He mocked Christine, his voice taking on an unusually high pitch

She stood alone, her own tears trailed down cold cheeks. She would never able to stop the anger that was coursing through his veins. He was right, she had said all of those terrible things about him, never thinking for even a moment that her Angel would be there listening in the shadows. "I'm so sorry Erik. I was young, naive and I knew nothing of true love. I was afraid, deathly afraid of…"

"**ME**!" Erik's voice roared above her own, drowning out her desperate pleas for forgiveness. The nearest lamp became the first victim; it fell to the floor with a sickening crack. With a primitive growl he whirled on her, trapping her wrists with his he pressed his weight upon her, pushing her painfully against the wall. His breath blew hot and angry in her face. "Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice?" He chuckled menacingly, a forced, ugly sound. "What are you doing here Christine? Why do you return to me, a hideous, murderous monster? If you needed me so badly, why did you leave for two years? Two damn years Christine you left me alone with my whirling mind. I tried to forget you…"

'Not again…please, not again.' She thought. 'This has been discussed, there's only so much I can say to quell his never ending thirst.' She closed her eyes, her lips parted as he came within inches of her face. This just angered him more; he released her from his grasp, ignoring her small whimpers of pain as another lamp fell prey to his raging fist.

"Obviously betrayal comes easily to you, if only the rest of us were as lucky." The sarcasm dripped from his words like poisonous venom. "**Leave me!" **

She needed not to be told twice. Christine fled to the safety of her bed. She fell into an exhaustion induced sleep; the sounds of shattering glass and Erik's cries of anguish serving as her lullaby.


	11. Forgive Me

**Disclaimer: Idon'townthis**

**A/N: I LOVE ALL MY REVIEWERS! MUAH! And yes, I realize I took Christine and twisted her into something more…workable, sorry if that bothers any of you! Hmmm…low PG-13 for 'make-up' romance. **

**Mademoiselle P**It's wasn't time for them to have a moment. Erik's gotten his feelings out; hopefully things will calm down a bit after they've both had a bit of a rest. What violence should I put in?

**A.k. Anonymous: **Oh no, she wouldn't pack up and leave, where would she go? Everything's going to be –alright- during this chapter.

**Takada Saiko**I'm very ecstatic that I make you happy. Making people happy is quite fun!

**Tracy137**Yes, he's very frustrated. I'll make Christine go back to her no spine thing and forgive him or something in this chapter. I love happy endings too!

**LostSchizophrenic**Yey! I'm great. I will never believe this…hehe 

**Neo-lover72**: Oh? Is that good or bad? That's all I get? Oh?

**Chapter Eleven**

**Forgive Me**

"Angel, I hear you. Speak, I listen. Stay by my side. Guide me. Angel, my soul was weak; forgive me." Erik's sensuous voice came tentatively from behind Christine's locked door. Night had slowly turned to daybreak and yet Christine still lay in her bed, her eyes wet with unshed tears. She couldn't face him yet, not after what he had done; even still, her heart went out to the poor, angst-ridden man pleading for her forgiveness.

The aroma of steaming, sugary pastries invaded her nose, stirring her empty stomach. She hadn't eaten for hours, not since breakfast yesterday. Reluctantly Christine unlocked the door, stepping away from the stream of sunlight that filtered in through the entrance way. She was puzzled, they were stories below ground, how did light manage to sneak in? Erik's form was bathed in the golden light as he walked towards her, the epitome of an Angel in appearance.

"Christine-"

Quick as a wink, the tray was ripped from his hands and the mahogany wood door slammed in his face.

Safely behind the door, Christine began to speak, her head resting against the back of the door, the tray of food shaking in her hands. "Erik, you nearly **broke **my wrists. I still have repulsive purple bruises all over them; now please let me eat in peace."

"You know nothing of repulsive."

The door opened again and Christine's angry face appeared before him. "Continue." She said plainly, staring him down with a cool gaze. For the first time in her life she felt as if she were grown.

He was shocked at the way she was speaking to him...like she was his

–Equal-. The words stuck in the back of this throat. With an irritated cough he freed them from their prison. "I said you know nothing of repulsive." He kept his voice dangerously cool, Christine could nearly feel the icicles forming on her eyelashes as his breath reached her face. "I have been a repulsive monster my whole life. Never before has a woman ever made me feel the way you have, not even Luciana." He winced as he mentioned her name; those memories had long since faded into blackness.

Christine's eyes clouded with confusion. "Luciana?"

He shook his head. "This girl, I knew her when I was no more than fifteen. Right now we're talking about _our _future not my past"

"I can't stay with you Erik, not if you hurt me again."

"Christine…I'm so sorry. May I see your bruises?" He tentatively reached out his hand. A sigh of relief left his lips as she gently placed her hand in his. It was quickly sucked back in as he gazed upon the damage that he had inflicted upon her. Tears shone in his eyes as he rubbed the discolored spots on her silky skin. "I never…I'm so sorry." His lips brushed against her hand, kissing away what he had done.

Christine frowned as sparks shot through her arm. "Erik, please-"

She was cut off as Erik placed kisses up her arm until he reached her neck. His lips traced circles down her jaw, his hands wrapped around her petite waist, closing the distance between their bodies.

She didn't fight him, although she was exasperated by the way her body reacted to his kiss. Waves of heat coursed through her nerves as his hands found her waist, moved slowly up to her heart. It beat wildly against his hand as he kissed her, his passion for her bottomless and permanent. She felt him press against her hips as he broke away from her mouth to utter a virtually inaudible moan. Sooner than she expected, he was back upon her, his tongue caressing her own.

Erik lost himself in the kiss, in the softness of her full curves. This time he had no doubts. Instead of picking her up, he took her hand in his and led her slowly to the bedroom, his eyes never leaving hers.

The dress fell to the floor, landing around Christine's bare ankles. She stood before him, nothing hiding her amazing beauty. It took all his will-power not to take her right there, on the lush carpeting. He slowly slipped out of his pants and brought his cotton shirt above his head, leaving his whole self bare. Christine didn't dare move; it was Erik who took the first steps towards her. He picked her up and placed her gently on her canopied bed, the black lace brushed gently against his bare skin. Her glorious hair was spread about on her pillow, covering the upper part of her chest. His hand pushed away the curls which covered her breasts until they were both bare. "You're so beautiful." He whispered as he dipped his head to kiss her heart. He claimed her minutes later with a flurry of soft whispered promises and heated passion.


	12. Good Morning

**A/N: Wow, that's a lot of replies! This is going to be a short chapter; I'll add another right after it though. **

**LadyAniviel**No! Well, at least not yet. I don't think they are ready to have a child. That would be an interesting plot twist though…**  
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**LaPapillion**Sorry I made you wait. My dad's computer has something wrong with it and I can't post new chapters…so every Friday and Saturday there won't be any new chapters. **  
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**Tracy137**No more moody Erik? Wow, I'll have to work on that one; it's what he's best at! That…and being romantic.**  
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**Alexa: **Darn school! Who needs it when we can read phanfictions? That would be the PERFECT world! **  
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**Jezzany: **All eleven chapters in one sitting? You are very dedicated. –hands you Erik plushie- Take it, you earned it! Christine had a year away from Raoul, and during that year she thought he was dead. I think that's why she was able to let go so easily when Erik killed him, because to her Raoul was already dead.

**RietroFan42**-Hands you Erik plushie- There, that's a very special one. Enjoy! **  
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**Gondorian-gurl**That would be interesting; I think they should make a second part of the movie. Without Raoul of course, darn that icky Fop. **  
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**Sbkar: **Just for you she will take initiative. **  
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**LostSchizophrenic**Yes, I know it's OoC. Sorry about that, there wasn't any other way I wanted to write it. He sang to her…and she changes when he sings to her. That's my only explanation. **  
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**La Foamy**Aww, don't cry! Erik is a very sweet person. Here, have an Erik plushie. –Hands you an Erik plushie- **  
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**Chapter Twelve **

**Good Morning**

The silk sheets were tangled around Christine's legs when she awoke. They bound her to the mattress and to Erik's sleeping body. Stifling a yawn, Christine stretched her arms above her head full of messy curls. Erik's body heat radiated around him and warmed Christine's naked form.

She lifted the thin sheets, exposing herself to the air which felt frightfully cold in comparison. Her eyes fell upon Erik, peacefully sleeping. His lips were parted and when Christine placed a small hand over them, she could feel the burst of warm air as he exhaled. She slowly bent over and kissed those thin lips. Erik stirred in his sleep. Christine kissed him harder and his eyes shot open in surprise. Satisfied with the response she had gotten, Christine wrapped her arms around his bare chest.

Erik wasn't satisfied. In his sleepy haze he found Christine's throat and traced kisses down to her collarbone. He worked his way back up until his lips met hers with an unmatched eagerness while his hands roamed freely on her soft as silk body.

Her hands trailed down his chest, following the thin line of hair that led to his navel. Erik was wide awake now, and he stared at her with knowing trust as she shyly did some exploring of her own.

He pulled her on top of him with a gentle ease, and they became one again. Their bodies entwined, defenseless but not silent.


	13. We Won't Ever Have To Say Goodbye

**A/N: Please correct me if I got the wrong tense of lay. I've never been good at getting that word in the right form. And this is QUITE a long chapter. It's crucial to the plot, so you might want to take the time to read the whole thing! **

**Star Sheep: **I'm seriously contemplating them having a child. :)

**Chapter Thirteen**

"**We Won't Ever Have To Say Goodbye…" **

A peaceful smile crossed Christine's lips as Erik stood from the bed, wrapped himself in only a light sheet, and went to the kitchen to cook her breakfast. Everything was going so perfectly well now that Erik had finally let go of the anguish that had been haunting him for years. Christine was his now, body and soul. Last night had done nothing but prove it further.

As he stirred the eggs, Erik let his mind wander to the images that were forever sketched in his brain from last night. Christine's perfect breasts, the sounds she made when he had entered her for the first time, the colour of her eyes, the feeling of her hair as he ran it through his fingers…

The bruises on Christine's wrist were beginning to fade into a light yellow, the color of the rising sun. The bruises on her hips however, were still embarrassingly apparent. She slid back under the covers and gravitated to the spot where Erik had lain the night before. It was still warm, the mattress even held the faint outline of his form. Closing her eyes she drifted into untroubled sleep.

"Christine?" Erik set the tray down beside the bed and kissed her shoulder. "Breakfast is ready Christine."

"Erik?" Christine slowly rose above the foggy haze that sleep had enveloped her in.

"Yes…now, wake up so you can eat." He gazed down at her, an unrestrained smile dancing across his lips.

"Sit with me." She pulled herself up against the wooden headboard and took the tray from his hands, thoughtfully this time.

Erik did as he was told. He took the silver fork that lay across a gold silk napkin, picked up a bite of eggs, and began to feed Christine. His eyes followed her lips as they wrapped around the fork, delicately taking the food into her mouth. It was enough to make him crazy. Bite after bite they continued this routine until there was nothing but small flecks of egg on the porcelain plate. Erik dutifully left with the tray, allowing time for Christine to dress alone.

Slipping out of the warm bed, Christine hurried to the armoire and slipped a plain cotton dress over her head. She didn't bother with the corset, as it was only Erik that would see her and she was certain he didn't mind. Placing silk slippers on her cold feet she walked into the living room. Her face was bathed in light, only this time she knew the source. A dark stained glass window had been shattered in Erik's seething rage, allowing light from stories above to filter in through the space where the top half should have been. The rest of the destruction had been cleaned up; not a sliver of broken glass littered the floor.

"Erik!" She screamed in alarm, a terrible thought having just crossed her mind.

"Christine?" Erik was at her side in an instant, folding her into his arms.

"What if people discover us? Through the broken glass! At the right angle, people will be able to see in here, just like how the sun can get through."

"How did you think of that?" He was baffled, a year ago; Christine's mind would not have worked that way. She would have been laughing with joy at the fact that light was able to brighten Erik's dark existence.

"I…I don't know. I just thought that if the sun could manage to get through, so could a thief."

"I'll fix that tonight, right now you enjoy the light. If a thief decides that he wishes to loot this place, he'll have to get through me first."

She was comforted by his fierce determination to keep her safe. "Can we sing again? Not Don Juan Triumphant, but something else, please."

"We will sing again. _Think of Me_ needs work. Today, after lunch I will be expecting you in my library." Disengaging himself from her arms, Erik walked swiftly away. Thinking of how to replace the stained glass window would require hours of his time.

Settling down at his desk, Erik inked a quill and began to sketch out his ideas. His hand had a mind of his own and he quickly found himself drawing out the sharp angle of Christine's chin, the gentle slope of her cheeks as they led to sensual lips. Her portrait gradually morphed from light lines to the defined face of the woman he loved. Her eyes stared longingly back at him, one eyebrow was raised in a silent dare. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, partly hiding one eye behind the full curls.

Erik was so rapt in his work he didn't hear Christine's footsteps approaching him.

"What are you-"

"Thinking," He covered her rough portrait with his arm and pulled out another piece of yellowing parchment, "Of how to fix the window."

"How did it break?" If she knew he was lying she did nothing about it. Her arms wrapped around his chest from behind and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I threw a metal lamp at it."

"You didn't think it would shatter?"

"I was too angry to think."

"I never noticed it before. It must have been a beautiful piece of work."

"I installed it when I was working on the Opera House seventeen years ago."

"You helped to build the Opera House?"

"Yes."

"Did you install the mirror in my dressing room? The double sided mirror that allows one to look upon another without their knowledge?"

"Yes."

"Erik! A woman should have some privacy."

"I never actually watched you as you changed, only when you ran that brush through your hair. One hundred times on each side, until it was softer than silk. Or when you painted your lips with dark rouge using that horse-hair brush. I envied that small brush for it got to brush against your lips, something I was convinced I would never have the pleasure of doing."

"Oh…do you remember the first time you saw me?" She settled against the crook of his shoulder, like a child eagerly waiting to hear an exciting bedtime story.

"I'll never forget. You were only a young child, seven I believe, at least that's what Madame Giry told me when she caught me in Box Five staring at you. She told me of how your father had died. It was then that I decided I would always take care of you. I loved you, but not as I do now. The first time I heard you sing I realized that with practice you would have the voice of an angel. I waited a three years, followed you and learned your habits. Whenever you would light a candle for your father in the attic-"

"You sang to me."

"That I did. When you turned thirteen and you were no longer a child, it was then that I began to feel more strongly towards you. I waited for the suitors to arrive but to my perverse pleasure they never did. You were solely mine for those three years until _Raoul_ entered your life again. It was then that I knew you had to know who your 'Angel' was in flesh. So I took you here, in hopes that you would want to stay."

"I ripped your mask off."

"We'll end there. It's easier that way." Erik turned and kissed Christine's flushed cheeks.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Taking me back in after everything that happened. I made the wrong decision to stay with Raoul. It wasn't what I thought it would be. His friends, those rich bastards, treated me like the orphan I used to be not the Vicomtess that I was. And Raoul himself was rough and treated me like a foolish child. He couldn't be bothered with me most of the time. I stayed in my own separate room, away from him and his entourage of wealthy patrons. It was only when he was required to bring me along to one of his lavish dinner gatherings that I was allowed to venture out of the house. When he left for the war, I was torn. It was a blessing in some sorts, yet, I was heartbroken. My husband was gone. I had been truly left alone. When a year had passed and I received no word from Raoul, his mother banished me from my own house. She blamed me for his disappearance. I lived on the streets for days, stealing whatever I could to survive. My nights were filled with vivid dreams of you, they had been for years, yet until then I paid no attention to what they were telling me. So I returned to the Opera House to bury you and put them to rest. When I arrived I found you very much alive, and now here I am with you. I wanted to thank you for loving me."

Her story hit him like a fist in the gut. "You lived on the streets?"

She nodded sadly. "I didn't have anywhere to go."

His heart ached for her past. 'Raoul is lucky he is already dead. If he were not, I would personally hunt him down.' Erik shook away the evil thoughts that clouded his brain. "Did he ever hurt you?"

"Not physically. Raoul never hit me. He would want to, his hand would be raised to strike but my pathetic whimpering would stop him just short of my face. He didn't want to mar the one thing that he truly loved. If my face was ruined he would have no reason to parade me around at dinner parties, his friends and family would have surely turned against both of us. He enjoyed having a trophy wife."

"How dare he!" Erik's knuckles turned snow white as he clenched his fists.

"He's dead now Erik. He can't do us any harm."

With shaking breath Erik unclenched his fists and took her hand in both of his. "Christine?"

"Yes?"

"Will you stay with me forever? I need to know that I won't ever have to let you go again."

"You will be the one that leaves me Erik, I promise."

He nodded. "That's the way it is supposed to be. What…what if we have a child?"

Christine stiffened. "Child?"

"It would only be logical if you got pregnant. Do you not want to birth the child of a monster, is that why you stiffen?"

"No! It's not like that. I'm just afraid of having a child, I've heard the pain is unbearable, but if you stay beside me I think I would feel nothing but your love. A child…" She quieted as the reality of what having a baby would mean dawned on her. A perfect baby, with her milky white skin and Erik's passionate jade eyes. "Erik, we can't have a child without marrying. Oh, what have we done? We've sinned Erik!"

"Shh, Christine, we'll get married. Just us, we can exchange vows and I can have a priest marry us." He was unnerved by the sight of her crying. "Making love isn't a sin."

"It is when you aren't married." She argued. Her father had been a very religious figure and she had never swayed from his strict views on what God considers sin.

"Then I told you, we can get married. We won't do anything more until we are wed. Will that calm you?" The joy of becoming Christine's husband was dominated by her obvious distress.

"That doesn't erase what we've already done."

"Please don't cry. If you confess then He will forgive you." He cringed as he spoke of Him. A 'Child of the Devil' Erik had never felt comfortable around the mention of God.

She grew placid. "You wish to marry a marked woman?"

"If that marked woman is you, then yes. I would be honored to marry a 'marked' woman."

"We can't sleep in the same bed anymore, not until we are wed."

He nodded. "May I still kiss you?"

"Yes, just nothing more. I already have a ring." She said, twirling the gold ring around her finger. "I would like to have it serve as the wedding ring."

Erik reached for her hand and took the ring from her middle finger. Bending down on one knee, he looked up at her. "Christine from the moment I laid eyes on you I knew you were special. I love you as I have loved no one else. As you stand before me I know I never want to be parted from you. I want to share a future with you, filled with children and happiness. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Even though his proposal was expected, Christine felt tears form in her eyes. "Yes." She felt him slide the ring onto the proper finger. She was now Erik's fiancée.

He stood and kissed her, soft and sweet. "My future bride." The words danced merrily on his tongue. He kissed the salty tears from her cheeks and rubbed his thumb against her cheek.

"Think of me. Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye." Christine attempted to sing but she was cut off by Erik's finger against her lips.

"We won't ever have to say goodbye."


	14. The Wedding

**DreamsofBeauty**Sorry you didn't like that. I kind of based that part on me I guess…sometimes I'll do something and then I won't realize what I've done until later and I freak out…maybe I'm just strange…! **  
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**Sbkar: **I don't think they are going to get married in a church, I just can't see Erik in that setting**.  
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**Tracy137**Reach a little more and maybe you'll be able to grab it! **  
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**LadyAniviel**Yes, I would be interesting if she got pregnant, I just don't know if I'm going to make them have a baby. I want to make all my readers happy and with this issue there is no way to do that... –pout- **  
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**La Foamy**I'm trying, I'm trying. You are a very emotional person huh? Don't worry, so am I! –sob- **  
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**LostSchizophrenic**That's my problem, some readers want for them to have a child, and others don't. I can't win either way.

**Alexa: **I'm trusting that you will get me that gorgeous picture of Gerry so here you go –hands you a SPECIAL edition Erik plushie- You are so special, you get the Gerald Butler version…not the Gaston Leroux one. Yes, I agree. It does happen in so many stories…but maybe they will have a child if everything goes as planned. **  
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**EriksSylvia**Hugs? I love hugs! **  
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**A.K. Anonymous: **-hands you a **Raoul **plushie- Feel free to do whatever you need to. Here's a pair of scissors. **  
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**Neo-lover72**Yes…they are quite cute sometimes. **  
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**LiTTleLoTTe1991**You are cordially invited to attend **Erik & Christine's **wedding. Please R.S.V.P by March 11th, 1863. **  
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**A/N: How many of you (my wonderful reviewers) like this whole system of me answering your reviews? It's getting to be a long process…I don't mind doing it, it's fun for me to communicate…but if you don't have any questions, would you mind very much if I skipped the one-liner responses? **

**Sorry it took more than a day to write this chapter I've been really busy! My muse is not being kind; I have a bad case of writer's block, so I apologize if this chapter isn't very good…**

**The picture of the dress is at: ****http:images.vam.ac.uk/images/photo/pcd/85263202/high/4578-042.jpg**

**The tux is at: ****http: Fourteen **

**The Wedding **

The sweet scent of fresh roses wafted about the lair, heightening Christine's intense nervousness. Her stomach was in knots as Christine's new friend tied her into her dress.

"Hold still Christine, I must tie the dress tightly if you wish to have a womanly figure." The blonde scolded as her nimble fingers tied the cotton strings in the back of the bodice. Christine was three years Emiline's elder. The priest had brought both Charles and Emiline with him to complete any tasks that might need to be done.

The creation was amazingly detailed; red and gold roses were woven in the silk of the bottom, a trial of beautiful, blooming flowers led up to the heart of the dress and disappeared under the lace shawl. The shawl itself was a dark cream colour, covered entirely with thread roses and it tapered off at a point at the waist, revealing Christine's tiny form. The sleeves fell just off her shoulder; the entire dress was a cream colour and made from silk. The train was ten feet long, red flowers outlined the entire trail; gold outlined leaves decorated the middle. In her hand she held a gold fan with the design of the flowers splayed across its grooves.

"What if he changes his mind?" Christine expressed her inner fears to the woman she had just met hours ago.

"He acts as if he's hopelessly in love with you. There we are." She stepped away from Christine, admired her from arm's length away. "You look stunning."

"Thank you. Emiline?"

"Yes?"

"Will you walk me down the aisle and give me away?"

"Of course. I assume Charles will be Erik's best man?"

"There is no one else."

Silence fell upon the room. Emiline looked away. "What lies beneath Erik's mask?"

Christine turned; a grave looked etched across her features. "I can not speak of such matters, you must not either."

A knock sounded on the door, a hollow sound. "Christine? The priest is ready for you." It was Charles, young Emiline's suitor. At the sound of his voice, Emiline (Emmy) grinned uncontrollably. Christine opened the door and Charles' eyes swept over her instantly and fell upon Emmy. They were so much in love, it made Christine's soul smile.

"Christine, let us go."

_Here comes the bride…_

Christine's eyes met Erik's as he stood, anxiously waiting for her to be handed to him. With measured steps she slowly made her way towards him, fighting the urge to sprint forward and jump into his arms. When the time came for Emmy to give her to Erik, the priest began to speak.

"Erik, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold in sickness and in health for richer or poorer for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

'Christine, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold in sickness and in health for richer or poorer for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Do you have the rings Charles?"

Christine glanced down to her bare ring finger, she had given up her ring to Charles earlier in the day and her finger ached to have the weight of the plain gold band back.

"Yes."

Erik took the ring and with a hungry gaze into Christine's eyes, he slipped it onto her finger. Christine did the same to Erik. They had matching gold rings for their matching plans for the future that they would share together.

"You may kiss the bride."

'Bride.' The word played teasingly in Erik's mind as he bent to kiss Christine. He was married… Christine was his bride…It was so unreal that Erik had trouble deciphering everything that was happening.

Everything flew around him in a blur as the day progressed. Emiline, Charles, and the Priest left them alone not an hour later.

Hours later, as Christine sat next to Erik in his study; he got his first good look at her. She was still clothed in her wedding dress, the dress that had cost an obscene amount of money and she looked absolutely breathtaking. She glanced up from her reading as she sensed Erik's eyes drinking her in.

"Is everything alright?"

He kissed her in response.

"Erik, it's our wedding night." She said softly, a glint sparkling in her eye.

"I know. I still can not grasp the fact that I am married to you. Christine, you are my wife. My wife."

"I will be until the day I die." She promised fiercely.

She stood suddenly and held out one sure hand. "Follow me; I need help changing into something more suitable."

Erik stood and followed her into the bedroom, knowing very well that she would not be changing into something more suitable for a long time.


	15. A Ghost

**Anonymous – **I think I've figured out a semi-original plot…besides, Erik has already stopped wearing his mask in front of Christine. **  
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**PhantomsHeart: **Kind of, but in this story Emmy's real name is Emiline. Emmy is just a nickname. Sorry, no wedding night details…

**Ludivine - **-Hands you Erik plushie- There ya go! Is there anyone else who has not received their plushie? No cheating….! **  
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**LostSchizophrenic**** – **I figured out what I'm going to do about the baby situation. **  
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**LadyAniviel**** – **Very sorry about the underlined text, that is a mistake. I don't know why that happens. –Grr- **  
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**Tracy137: **Ha-ha, no, not to disappoint you, but this one isn't over quite yet. **  
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**A/N: High PG-13 for romance. Short Chapter. Sorry. I'm totally busy! I'm turning sixteen in a few days and I'm planning my sweet sixteen. Did I already tell you that? **

**Chapter Fifteen**

**The Ghost **

**_Two Months Later_**

"Christine, are you ill?" Erik was overwhelmed with concern as he hovered over her hunched body and gently held her hair away from her face as she retched into the china pot.

Wiping her mouth, Christine stood and took a sip of water, knowing it was probable that anything she ate or drank during the day was going to come back up…"Erik, I think I'm pregnant." She turned to face him, self-consciously dabbing at the corners of her mouth with the cotton cloth that Erik had handed her.

Erik's eyes brightened so intensely that Christine was worried they were going to blind her. "A baby? I'm going to be a father?" His hands flew to her stomach; his fingers pressed into her tender flesh in hopes that he would feel the slightest movement and confirm that it was true. After a moment he thought he felt a tiny ripple wave through her abdomen. Satisfied, he pulled her to him.

"It 'tis too early to tell, yet I believe I am. I've read about the sickness that pregnant women get, it's very much like mine." She beamed, and Erik could detect traces of the healthy glow that expectant mothers were said to receive. "A child Erik, a child of our very own. A child that will love us unconditionally, can you imagine?"

No, in fact, Erik could not imagine. All that he could picture was a baby born like him, the right side of its face horribly butchered; only one slit for a blood red eye. All he could imagine was a young child, taunted and mercilessly harassed by his peers. All he could imagine was a young teenage boy, his hormones rushing through his system, lusting after the young women of Paris and his horrendous face preventing them from loving him. All he could imagine was a grown man, living in repressed solitude, his tears cascading down his cheeks as he fantasized about his life if only he had been blessed with a 'normal' face. All he could imagine was an old man, dying on his bed with no one to hold his hand or whisper sweet words of comfort, lying there until his body turned to dust and was whipped away by a slow gust of wind that blew in from the crack in his broken window.

"What's the matter?" Christine wiped her thumb over the tears that were running down his pale cheeks. "I didn't mean to upset you' I was only excited about the baby." She took his hand in hers and ran it down to her stomach.

"No, it's nothing like that, I'm just afraid that the baby will turn out like me. I was just…thinking about what he would have to go through."

"Don't think like that! The little one will be perfect, I can feel it. Even if he or _she _does look like you, the baby will be ours."

With that, Erik brought his hand up to her breast and teasingly stroked her flesh through the thin fabric. "Care to re-enact the baby's creation?" He asked slyly, his eyebrows gently rose as he brought his mouth down to hers, not allowing her to answer.

They fell on the silken bed, a tangle of arms and legs. Passionate moans echoed off the thick stone walls as Christine and Erik became one again.

Her nails dug into his back when he entered her, leaving angry red welts on his skin. She felt him move within her and she gasped, moving her hips to match his furious pace. There was something different about this time; Erik wasn't as gentle as he normally was with her. There was a desperate need he needed to fulfill. He collapsed on her, his chest heaving so heavily she thought he was going to pass out; she gently disentangled herself from his sweaty body and rolled out from behind him. Her body was still throbbing from his touch when she pulled on a clean dress and placed her shaking hands on her stomach, hoping that a part of Erik was growing inside of her.


	16. Le Vicomte De Concorde

**http:etext. the link for the dress that I describe. It's the one on the left. This has some questionable material in it. So I'll rate it PG-13. **

**Chapter 16**

**Le Vicomte De Concorde**

_A Day Later _

She let herself out the heavy wooden door that led to the Rue Scribe and sighed as the early morning's sun flooded over her. Ever since Erik had fixed the stained glass window, no matter how he had managed to do it, the sun was blocked from her household now. The sound of birds chirping was alien to her, as was the smell that lingered in the air. It smelled of spring and of the fresh dew drops that glittered like diamonds in spider webs as the sun hit them. Inhaling deeply, as if to forever trap that scent in her mind, she set about on her way, almost certain that she would come home and find Erik still asleep. If he were to awaken there was a note sealed with wax lying on the kitchen table.

_My Dearest Erik,_

_I have taken the liberty of enjoying an early morn walk. I shall be home before noon. I know my way about the streets, so please don't be troubled with my safety. I love you._

_Yours Forever,_

_Christine _

Erik twirled the note around in his fingers. 'Don't be troubled with my safety?' He could not help but be troubled. 'Still, she can leave whenever she wishes.' He reasoned, finally placing the note back into the envelope. When she did return, he would be here, waiting for her. Like a good husband, he would kiss her gently on the cheek and inquire as to how her walk went. Until then, he would remain calm by reading.

Christine fit right in with the early morning crowd this time. Her dress of red silk covered with a golden shawl kept her from receiving odd stares. As she went about her way, she stopped to stare longingly into various shop windows where only the finest dresses were made. _La Belle Femme_ in particular, a quaint little boutique that sold ready-made dresses, caught her greedy eye. A most beautiful dress was displayed in the window for all to see. The dress fell to the floor and swept behind the mannequin's feet, a large bow was sewn in at the lower back; the colours of just the bow were breathtaking. The rest of the dress was made out of satin, in bright hues of royalty. Purples and golds and silvers wound through the dress, tapering off to a dark purple at the points where the dress nearly touched the ground. It was too fancy for Erik's lair and besides, the dress was long sleeved; much too hot for the coming weather. As she turned to walk away, a voice sounded in her ear.

"That would look remarkable on you."

"I beg your pardon Monsieur."

"Then I shall repeat what I said; that would look marvelous on you. The purple and silver one there." He extended a graceful hand towards the dress she had just been gazing at longingly.

"You are quite brash Monsieur."

"Excuse my rude behavior. I am Amaury, le Vicomte De Concorde."

"Well, Monsieur Vicomte, I am Christine." She held out her hand for him to kiss. His hands were soft, a sure sign that he had never known a day of hard labor.

He was reluctant to let go of her hand. It was as she pulled gently away from him that she got her first good look at the man who had no problems expressing his opinion. His handsomeness startled her. His eyes were a deep hue of blue and his hair was a light coffee colour. Locks of the luscious waves fell just above his eyes, hiding long eyelashes and perfect eyebrows. A tremor of recognition shot through her. She knew this man. She had met him at one of Raoul's dinner parties.

"Madame Christine, may I do you the honor of buying you that dress you had your wide eyes on?"

"Oh no Mons-"

"If you would please call me Amaury I would be much obliged."

"Amaury, I could never accept such a lavish gift from a man I just met. Besides, my husband would wonder where the francs came from."

"It could be our little secret."

"I would rather not keep secrets from my husband." As awful as it was, Christine was enjoying this banter; it made her feel alive. "Where is your wife?"

"My wife?" He was taken aback by her question. Glancing down at his wedding ring, he sighed. "Madame, I really don't know."

"I'm terribly sorry. Forgive me for my forward question." A blush crept up on her cheeks. "Now it is I who is brash."

"No, it's no matter. She'll be back when she wishes to. Since it's nearly eleven; would you care to join me for lunch? I would enjoy the company."

"Yes." Her answer caught her by surprise. "I must return home before noon though, my husband is expecting me."

The two walked side by side, a very handsome couple. Men turned to stare enviously at the Vicomte as he escorted the beautiful Christine to his favorite restaurant. As they walked their chatter filled the air, a light step appeared in Christine's step as this man treated her kindly and spoke to her as an equal.

"Bonjour Vicomte. Where would you like to be seated today?" The waiter smiled at Christine and bowed deeply towards the Vicomte. He was an aging man, streaks of gray peppered his hair and fine wrinkles had sunken his tanned skin.

"A table for two, perhaps you should ask Madame Christine where she would like to be seated."

At the mention of her name, Christine glanced up and noticed the two men were staring at her, waiting for her response. "Oh," she said breathlessly, "anywhere would be lovely. Maybe next to a window?"

"As the lady wishes." With a wave of his arm the waiter was weaving through tables upon tables of dinning friends and family. "Would this be suitable?" He stopped at a quaint table. It was metal, the legs and top were painted white and matching chairs sat next to it, plush cushions pillowed the seats.

"Yes. This is perfect." As she sat down, she was bathed with light as it streamed through the glass window. "So, Amaury, what do you order here?"

"The salmon filet with asparagus is delightful."

"I'll have that then, if it's not too much trouble."

With a snap of the Viscount's fingers, the slender waiter was at their feet. "Yes?"

"We are ready."

"Of course, what will you be dining on today?"

"Christine and I are both going to have the salmon filet with asparagus and your finest champagne."

"The usual?" With this, the waiter and Amaury shared a secret smile. It lasted only a second and if Christine had not been staring intently at her new friend she would not have caught it. It made her uneasy; there was something about the way he smiled that made her feel as if he took young women out to lunch often. What might happen to her next was a mystery…

"The usual."

They spent the whole meal in silence, interrupted only by the waiter's inquiries and the quiet scratching sound of silverware on empty plates.

"I must be going, it's nearly noon."

"May I escort you home?"

"I'm sorry Monsieur, but I can not allow that. If my husband saw me with you, he would be very angry at me."

"Maybe halfway home then?"

"Then you must leave."

"That 'tis quite alright with me. Shall we be off?"

"Yes." Christine purposely took him the opposite way of Erik's home and wound him around many a small street. An hour must of past before she dew attention to it. "This is halfway. Thank you very much, you are a kind man." She turned to walk away but was stopped by his grip on her shoulder.

"Where do you think you are going?" He was aggravated and his grip on her only tightened when she tried to pull away. As he yanked her close she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You aren't leaving me, not yet. Not until you've paid me back for lunch."

"Please, please, I must go." She looked wildly around; no body was on the streets that could help her. Only a stray cat sat on the street, his tail twitching every so often as he serenely licked his paw. "I can meet you tomorrow with the francs, I promise. Just please, don't…No! Let go of me! Stop!"

"Shut up!" His hand stung across her face. "That's a warning. We don't want anyone to hear us, do we?" He placed a suddenly dirty hand on her delicate skin and groped at her inner thigh, his eyes were closed as he moved and his mouth moved, speaking incomprehensible phrases as his hand went up to her silk underwear then fell back to grip the fabric of her dress.

She screamed as he ripped her new dress, revealing Christine in one smooth motion. All of her pounding, kicking, and screaming could not stop this terror that was upon her.

"Stop! Plea-" Her world spiraled to darkness as a well placed blow struck her temple.


	17. A Feeling of Helplessness

**A/N: Sorry, I made a few errors in the last chapter…I hope they didn't muddle the story too much. Well, here is that 'much' awaited chapter. And I don't know how to properly write this, but she came-to after he knocked her out for the first time, and so he did so again. **

**Chapter Seventeen **

**A Feeling of Helplessness **

The night settled over Christine's sobbing form, a cold blanket to aggravate her deepest fears. Alone and shivering, she realized no one was going to help her. Erik had not come to her rescue; there had been no knight in shining armor. There had only been a rich noble with rough touches and strength to rival a lion's.

She had come-to in time to hear his faint footsteps as he left her, dirty and broken, like a piece of discarded trash. Her clothing lay at her feet in a torn and soiled pile. As she closed her eyes she could still feel his hands as they violated the very inner parts of her, taking what was not his to take. The torture had continued for hours, Christine's frantic screams had faded away to silence as he kept on hitting her, shamelessly battering her once beautiful face, knocking her further and further into unconsciousness. With the rape all innocence had been ripped away from her. Her naked body was sprawled out on the cold cobblestone, no part of her had moved since she had awoken. Broken glass dug into her back and legs, the shards embedding themselves deep into her skin to become constant reminders of what happened to her.

Shakily reaching one hand down to her thigh she was met by a warm, thick substance. Blood. He had torn and mutilated her with no second thoughts. The pain began to course through her body, and even it was a welcome substitute for the numbness. It snapped her back into reality. She began to cry as she raised herself up from the ground to stand on rubbery legs. She gathered her clothes and hugged them to her body. She was shaking so violently it was difficult to move.

Slowly Christine began to walk, and she had only taken a few steps when she realized she didn't know where she was. There were no street lamps to guide her. She had trapped herself in a completely deserted alleyway, one of the hundreds in France. She could be anywhere. The feeling of utter helplessness clouded over her, erasing what little ability she had to function left. "Erik?" She whimpered, walking with her hands running over the walls. "Erik? Where are you?" And so she stumbled through the alleyways, blood dripping down her legs, sweat stinging her eyes, falling blindly into whatever fate awaited her.

-

"Christine!" Erik stood in the dark foyer, rubbing the remains of sleep from his heavy lids. It was nearly midnight and Erik was more than alarmed to find her absent from their bed.

There was no answer. With an involuntary shudder, Erik grabbed his cloak and ran along the stone that led through the small watery passageways. Putting the cloak's hood securely over his head, Erik sprinted silently through the deserted streets, winding through empty alleyway after empty alleyway.

"_Erik?" _The small sound came from his right. _"Erik…" _The voice was Christine's, this Erik knew immediately.

"Christine?"

"_Erik!" _She fell into his arms, a sticky mass of foul smelling sweat and blood.

His first reaction was fury. Why was she still out at this hour? And what was she doing covered in sweat and blood? The second was absolute horror. "Did someone do this to you?"

She only whimpered in return and stepped back from him. She lost her balance and fell to the cobble stone street; blessed blackness claimed her once again.

"Christine!"


End file.
